Thrones of Silk
by Clementive
Summary: [Sequel to Silk and Machinations] While war rages on between the Hyuuga and Uchiha clans, Tenten sets foot on the ashes of the House of Dragons aware of a trap closing around her. Old loyalties will be tested and shadowy enemies will finally appear. Yet, soon, the strongest clans will fight for one thing: the empty Japanese throne of silk. NejiTen ShikaIno
1. The Fall of Chrysanthemums

_**As promised, this is the sequel of **Silk and Machinations**. If you haven't read it first, I strongly suggest that you do before reading this to have a broader understanding of the plot. However, reading this piece without reading Silk is also possible (hard but not impossible). **_

_**I'm sorry for the wait: I had forgotten how first chapters require more editing than any other chapter.**_

_**This being said, enjoy! :)**_

_Pairings: **NejiTen, ShikaIno, NaruSakuSasu, IbikiOC, GaaHina. Others may show up along the way.**_

_Disclaimer:** I do not own Naruto. **_

_**A small glossary: Kami= God. Tenno= heavenly sovereign, it refers to the emperor. **_

-X-

As a child, Haku played in the blood of his first victim, undisturbed by the stench or stains that clung to his knees.

This was how Zabuza Momochi found it; his feminine childishness cast in blood.

He remembered the bitter coldness unfolding in his stomach, his facial features hardening under his mask and the scent of blood, heavy on his hands. Metallic and sour. However, he mainly remembered Zabuza's smirk, red lips stretched devouring the life oozing out of the gapping wounds.

Then, he chose needles so he wouldn't waste what drew out Zabuza's smirks and interest. Since he gave his soul up to his master, he felt, smelled and experienced nothing. His needles did the work; sewing cadavers that threatened his master or got into the way of protecting him. He didn't mind the ghosts, the flesh he ripped the seam from. Mere pawns, mere decadent humans he didn't understand.

He was an the apprentice of a beast but that night, he was a shadow.

Invisible, he let his members take form between the drawn chrysanthemums on the thin silk screens. The wind howled against them, fragile and brisk, masking his footsteps that slid across the hall of the imperial palace of Japan. He was just one more shadows walking the halls of servitude and power. Haku thought solely of his master, the way, courtesans did the emperor. Zabuza made his footsteps soundless, his needles, lighter. He didn't expect the faint cry of his memory; _Tenno_, it chanted loudly. The heavenly sovereign.

His skin prickled, the voice incessant in his ear; he should bow not kill. _No_, he resisted. He bowed only to Zabuza. He killed only for him.

As guards passed by, Haku erased his shadow, plastering himself on the walls. He espoused their edges, crossing the inner courtyard that separated the quarters of high-ranked aristocrats and the ones of the imperial family. The crest of heavenly power laid flat against the red tiles and a shiver ran down his spine. Even Kami was meant to fall, casting petals of chrysanthemum in early summer. _Yes_, he smirked. No one had ever resisted his needles.

His laboured breathing thickly rolled out of his blank mask. This was how demons and beast grew; in the absence of fear of the divine. This was how they carried on; they thought of the fall of white chrysanthemums instead of the fall of Kami.

Zabuza wouldn't hesitate. Zabuza would slaughter with a soundless instinct that didn't bow to the laws of humans. His mask gleamed. The shadows quivered, he quivered. They stilled, he stilled. Gulping the moist air behind his mask, he watched soldiers sitting across the emperor's quarters, lulled to sleep under the ghostly moonlight.

Haku stepped between them, letting his needles quietly dive into their flesh. His body relaxed, feeling, fearing nothing. Drops of blood stained the blooming chrysanthemums while the two cadavers slouched on the floor, like ragged dolls. Humans were so pitiful when dying, Zabuza often said, blood dripping down his chin.

His fingers numbed on the screen, his heart thumping against his rib cage, a deafening excitement and curiosity. Could heaven bleed? Would the moonlight turn red and oozed onto days chasing the sun? How did Kami fall and demons rise?

He slid the door open like an emperor.

The palace didn't stir, imprisoned in the darkest hour when he approached the sleeping form of the emperor. Beard and hair glistened in the heavy hot air. So human, so mundane. His quarters smelled of lotus and rich silk, suddenly metallic and sour.

The palace didn't stir, silk and chrysanthemums stained by death.

-X-

**The Fall of Chrysanthemums**

_**by Clementive**_

-X-

Tenten could count the days she left Konoha with the leagues, Katsuo forced onto them. Days, sunrises and green scenery lingered in her tiredness, blunted by their run.

She believed Gai when he told her it would be a journey. In fact, it consisted sleepless nights, uncomfortable blankets that smelled of equine sweat and avoiding villages. Katsuo of the House of Dragons didn't trust his surrounding, his pearl eyes always reaching farther than Gai or her could. More importantly, he didn't trust her.

She shivered, her cloak heavy with the humidity of dawn. It hung in droplets of pearls on her body and the horse beneath her neighed softly, drawing thin clouds out of his nostrils. Without even seeing it yet, she could smell the sea; salty, yet terrible. Soon, the waves would mutter through her, crash onto her last memories of China. Home. Death.

She shivered again, sharply pulling the bridle.

"We are not stopping, Tenten-chan," Katsuo said icily, appearing next to her, suspicion meddling with his usual cold mask.

She shook her head, looking over his shoulder that the mist cascading the mountains. She only remembered the flat lands around the village of her father and the crop of rice. The mountains before have become her home since she left China. She didn't remember how it happen, how the two countries swapped place in her mind and heart. 'Neji...' She bit her below lip, glancing over at her sensei. Drowsily, Maito Gai looked over his shoulder meeting briefly her eyes, his own bridles escaping his hands. Harshly, their journey caught on to her, her body crying for rest and a bath.

"I apologize, Katsuo-san, I thought one sleeps during the night. Clearly, I am mistaken, this is already dawn," Tenten said dryly, pulling on the bridles to turn away from him.

Before she could turn away he gripped her hands. Her breath quivered at the back of her throat halting as the veins surrounded his pearl eyes. She almost counted the pulsating veins, compared them with Neji's. They were concentrated around his eyes in thinner but more prominent lines that reached his neck. Unlike Neji. Her heart clutched in her chest and she glanced away, afraid he would see his name on her face. Bitterly, Tenten thought she trusted him as little as he trusted her. Instead, her eyes fell on the tattoo of the dragon curling on the pale skin of his arm.

Abruptly, he released her, his sleeve sliding back on the mark of the House of Dragons while he turned towards Gai waddling off his saddle.

"There is a valley a league away. We will stop there and wait for instructions."

"Is anyone following us in spite of our youth?" Gai mumbled, his dark eyes unfocused.

"Who are we waiting for? Didn't we get instructions yesterday and the day before that?"

"No," Katsuo narrowed his eyes at her answering Gai's question while ignoring her puffing reddened cheeks. "And we don't want this to change."

Their horses trotted in front of hers and she pinched her lips glaring at the back of their heads. She had grown up in the House, handled weapons for as long as she remembered. She remembered their weight just as much as people greeting her, acknowledging her. The heavy scent of metal clung to their breath the way they clung to hers. However, if Gai had been helping before Katsuo arrived in Konoha, every sympathy he showed her was gone.

"Tenten-chan," the elder threatened in a low voice without turning his head towards her.

Clenching her jaw, she pushed her mount forward, the bitterness resting on her tongue ignored. They passed crops, avoided awakening farmers. Through foliage, Tenten could see them tirelessly working on their lands afraid of the impact of blood on their soil. When they walked around a small fishing village, she wanted to get lost in the crowd, to move along side with it as it discussed the war between the Hyuuga and the Uchiha clans. She grew up surrounded by war, dawns and evenings when the scent of metal was the strongest and the most sickening.

They were all survivors of the games of the warlords. Did peasants know as much? Did they play their own games?

"Hurry."

Katsuo was never far behind, his pearl eyes following her movements as if she were their prisoner. The question burnt her tongue: was she? Was she the first war prisoner? Even her sensei's eyes avoided her or remained on her for too long. He didn't offer a sparring match or to stretch his legs with her.

The hooves of the horse sank in the a reddish mud. She smelled their sweat under the rising sun and burnt flesh. The wind sang in the bony hollow structures of the farmhouses. Their half-burnt thatched roof laid in piles of ashes at their base.

"So, it has already begun," the monk frowned. "How far is the battlefield, brother?"

Paling, Tenten looked at Katsuo waiting for his answer. Her gloved hands almost pulled her mount towards the inner lands. Maybe her place was on the battlefield. It seemed the call of weapons always brought her back there with an armour and a sword.

"They are farther south. I don't think they will come back here."

She reached over her saddle-bag where her twin katanas were. She almost defeated Neji with the Twin Rising Dragon.

"Who is losing?"

"There is no such thing as a winner or a loser on a battlefield, Tenten-chan," Katsuo scowled, his features quivering, bubbling under his cold anger. "There are cadavers, ghosts and survivors. Nothing more, nothing less."

Moments later, they reached the valley, the trunks of the trees were still grey. Without a word, she dismounted while the two men talked to one another in low voices. Tenten pinched her lips, letting her mare feed from the scarce herbs. She picked a small trail of silver hanging.

She pretended to brush her horse's brownish coat, her heart pounding and her hand supple around the pommel of her kunai. Swiftly, she spun tossing the weapon but Maito Gai's iron grip closed around her wrist. Crying out in panic, her mare kicked the sand and sprung forward.

The cloaked shape stepped between the ashen trees.

Silver quivered as she breathed heavily narrowing her eyes in response to the monk's unflinching dark ones. She almost forgot, they could smell weapons as well as she could. She forgot Gai had been one of them all along; probably one of Ibiki's pawn. She wondered what that made of her.

"Release me, sensei," she hissed, watching him blink slowly as if he were waking from a dream.

"Don't let your youth blind you, Tenten-chan," he tried to smile but it fell flat and uneven on his lips. "You could have killed an innocent woman."

Her head snapped in the direction of the uneasy stance of the woman. The hood hung low on her face but black locks escaped it. Her breath caught in her throat and Gai slowly released her wrist. Katsuo joined the woman, his glower never leaving her as he leaned in. As always, his emotions weighed down the coldness spread on his features. He couldn't fight them rising inside him the way Hyuuga usually did.

"Okaa-sama," he muttered but she heard him loud and clear while the woman pushed back her hood.

"Asuka-sama," she cried out in surprise taking a step back.

Familiar faces couldn't lie this long, she thought to herself petrified. Yet, she had lied and hidden her whole life.

Watching her with indifference, Asuka Hyuuga handed a scroll to her son. The gesture left a dull aching in her knotted stomach. They were cold but tender, caring. For a brief moment, she had thought it had been her mother. Sharply, she spun on her heels, Neji's warnings louder than ever.

"Don't go too far, we'll reach the shore today. China has granted you passage," the wind carried his tensed voice, until falling back into soother tones directed towards his mother.

Tenten breathed in sharply, choking back her tears. Everyone that surrounded her tied her back to the House of Dragons while banishing her from it. In front of the mountains, she had grown to love and called home, she didn't know where she stood.

Her arm shook as she hugged herself. She couldn't be anyone's war prisoner, not with Neji on the battlefield. That meant she would need to break free soon before the cage severed her wings, nailing down onto the ground.

"Tenten-chan, we need to go."

She blinked the tears away, walking back towards them. With ease, she fell back on the mold of her mask. This early in the game, patience and deception were keys.

-X-

Bloody stains followed them, hollow and ghostly followers perched on their shoulder. They followed soldiers to their bed. In the darkness, they would then gasp, waking up sweaty and their fingers itching to let go of their swords. Already. War stretched their legs, until they tired and ceasing the run, the fight, was no longer an option.

Neji closed his eyes, leaning back against one of his tent's pillar. He breathed in, chasing the scent of sweat, dust and gore that hung to his clothes. The sun set, the last intake of brimstone. In the shadow of his tent, he watched his men peeling layers of armour off their chest while other struggle to slid them on their skin.

He hissed as the servant attempted to bind his arm. She didn't have Tenten's soft worn hands that handling weapons carved in them. Vaguely, he searched her face for his wife's familiar features and he almost dismissed the young servant when he didn't.

It had been a week since they last saw one another. A week since his army and the Uchiha's first clashed on the battlefield. They spun their weapons over their heads, war cries echoing in their chest, as they cut down one another. This was home. This was war. They had been hungry for blood, but they were already drained by the sun, the wind, the unstable ground beneath their feet. Blood coagulated too fast, cadavers burnt too slow.

Any stable middle ground vanished, welcoming the past memories of the battle they tried to forget.

A shadow leaned over the Hyuuga lord and he wished he didn't need to hear the number every night. He could see it on the battle; men rarely died in silence. He could smell it in the evenings; men rotted before they were burnt.

Grunting, Neji pushed the servant's hands away from his bandaged arm, dismissing her in a tired gesture. The girl blushed, bow and turned towards the exit. Neji's pearl eyes focused on her neck; Tenten's was darker but slenderer. He grunted again turning his attention back towards his the strategist.

"How many today?"

"The emperor is dead," Shikamaru Nara said instead, his knuckles whitening around the scroll in his hand.

Neji blinked rapidly, focusing his attention of the mouth forming the words over and over in a whisper. The emperor gave him a larger fief after his first war campaign against the shogunate of the Wind. He set the head of the Southern shogun at his feet alongside his uncle, Hiashi.

"What?"

"A needle in the heart," he added, his voice raspy on his thickening voice. "Civil war broke between the most powerful aristocrats. They are accusing one another, but no one is stepping forward to claim the kill."

"No one would dare," the warlord raised to his feet, gesturing sharply for his servant to close the tent's entrance. "Can we trust this information?"

"Two of Ino's sources confirmed this. Two days ago. There is also no sign of the imperial heir. A chrysanthemum was found in his bed."

Neji paled, running a tired hand in his dark locks. He heard it before Shikamaru said it. He looked down and they paused afraid of saying it, afraid of hearing it. _This is the end, _they thought at once avoiding each other's glance.

"Uchiha," he licked his lip. "He has a claim to the throne by his mother's ancestry."

Nodding slowly, Shikamaru set the scroll on the shoguns temporary desk. Bitterly, he noticed for the immaculate rich paper that only awaited his signature and seal. After all, white was the colour of heaven and armistice.

"If I keep fighting him, I'll look like a rebel," he choked on a mouthful of curses, pacing. "And a rebel is a traitor! No wonder why we still haven't cross blades on the battlefields! He's probably laughing at me, at us, since the very beginning."

His anger fuelled the jerks of his hands when he threw the scroll across the tent, or when he kicked his armour he removed earlier. His chest heaved and he turned his glare towards Shikamaru's set jaw. He still couldn't face him; he never calculated the move across his shogi board. He should have pierced the shadow and let the pieces reveal the real game.

"I will lose my lands!" He shouted, trembling, his mind leaning back towards Tenten and what they could build together. "What will I tell my men? '300 of you died for nothing! This is the kind of shogun, I am'," he shook his head, thoughts violently spinning in his head. "Now, the ones that are still standing will have to take their life."

"Uchiha cannot claim the throne unless the troublesome heir is dead, Hyuuga. Calm down, this isn't over yet." His voice hardened.

"The heir is three years old, Nara" Neji said icily, unrolling the scroll on his desk with a violent jerk of the hand. "Do you seriously think any warlord cares whether he is dead or not? They would rather fight than have a creature that aristocrats will shape to suit their wills."

His eyes quickly ran over the names of the imperial family searching for a familiar name. A new pawn for the game of silk and machinations.

"Then, we have to find someone who will take the throne as troublesome as it is."

Ultimately, thrones were made of silk; lords sat and died in silence onto them. It was the path to them that was paved with howls and yells of pain.

"Get the other warlords in here," the shogun's finger had stopped on one name, tapping it softly. "We will need to change the banners."

_Uzumaki Naruto._

-X-

_**I'm excited to be back with these characters. :) Again, I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed, added to their favourite list or alert list Silk and Machinations. **_

_**I would like to continue this but as it is the case for all my stories, this is a pilot. Your reactions to this first chapter will determine whether I keep writing the sequel or not. **_


	2. A Feast For Foxes

_**I had to drive back home this weekend at the last minute. The chapter was ready but driving and updating are mutually exclusive for safety reasons. I came back yesterday but I went straight to bed. Sorry about the wait :/**_

_**To Chisa Chispa: Thank you for your review! I'm glad to have you back! I guess we are as excited then. :P Since a few weeks, I always mention when updates are to take place so you don't need to check every day anymore .^_^**_

_**To Shikainofans: I shall try to write more ShikaIno moments. :) Thank you for your review!**_

-X-

Uzumaki Naruto renamed his katana _Kyuubi _when the blade was brought to him at his mother's death.

He avoided his wife's pleading glance, his blue eyes focused on the shimmering red blade. It dulled the sense in urgency in her glance. It dulled the abrupt rising voices of his men discussing war. They tasted it and spat blood. The forest and curtains of rain that was his mother's lands always soothed him, sheltered him. However, sometimes he would glance over the thick clouds and reached for something higher, louder, deeper that reminded him of his childhood as a hostage in Konoha. He thought he yearned for quiet and the slow rumbles of tireless rains.

He didn't.

The first time he handled his sword, it was against Sasuke, his friend. The second time, it was against Sasuke and he called him his brother.

He wanted war to rain down on him, taint his katana and hands.

"Don't..."

Naruto let the naked blade redden in the in front of Sakura's widened eyes. Her lips paled and he licked his lips, his throat dry and craving for the bloody taste revenge.

"Don't pretend you are asking me to stay put when all you truly want is to protect him. I'm done hoping and waiting, Sakura-chan."

"Naruto..."

The two years they had spent apart still sat between them and she was at loss with the words they never uttered to one another, with the caresses they never shared. She didn't apologize, didn't regret and the tears she shed were still for him. Uchiha Sasuke. Naruto let her go after their wedding, didn't reach for her sleeping form the way he hoped he could someday.

"I told you it would come down to this, Sakura-chan. Sasuke and I still fighting," he growled, waving for the servants to open the sliding doors. "I thought we will both die if we ever did, but now... there's a throne between us. It's not only about you anymore."

The war, the anger that rose within him made his teeth sharper, his will for revenge a heavy cloak thrown over his shoulders. It closed around him; he let the darkness grow on him. He would unleash of the fox of the Uzumaki clan feast upon his best friend's cadaver. However, he still lied to her when it came to fighting the Uchiha heir; it was always about her. He would look at himself through Sakura's eyes and expected the reflection of his eyes to be red and pulsing.

Foxes didn't share their mate, they fought to the death for them.

Naruto knew she didn't recognize him with the last curves of childhood gone from his face. He still reached for her shortened hair when she appeared at the Uzumaki compound. He still hoped then she would recognize him as her husband even if it were as Uchiha Sasuke.

Because he would have never hurt her.

Because she didn't love him enough for him to be able to hurt her.

He let her tears fall, his heart stilling in his chest but his mind clear when he pushed himself up on his horse. She appeared through the thick curtains of rains like one of the pale ghosts that were said to rummage the forest of the shogunate.

He let her go as he did before twice, the heavy blanket of rain snaking his pain and sorrow between the hooves of his mount.

Rain dulled foxes' senses but it could never tame their growling hunger.

-X-

**A Feast for Foxes**

_**by Clementive**_

-X-

Yellow was the colour of deception.

Ino Yamanaka pushed her shoulders back, feeling the eyes of Fu on her kimono like a sleek caress; to him, she still belonged to him. She had practiced the act a thousand times, she had let the heart and mind of men wandered on her skin, binding them to her will. Slowly, she turned her head exposing her jugular while her hand closed around a kunai in her sleeve.

She only felt something when she met Shikamaru Nara and yellow didn't deceive him.

"Do you think Danzou-sama will be long, Fu-san?" Ino's lips formed a pout and she watched him drew a sharp intake of breath through thick eyelashes.

"Danzou-sama told you to wait so this is what you should do."

Ino shrugged, carefully smouldering the rise of anxiety and fear. What if yellow wasn't enough? She walked towards the open sliding doors, her eyes taking in the deserted garden, the drowning sun in streaks of blood and flickering orange. Her heart quickened, noting the symbol of Imperial Japan attached to the heraldry of the Shimura clan.

"Ino-chan."

She bit the inside of her cheek, falling gracefully in a pool of silk until her forehead touched the floor. The information she had gathered had been correct, after all. She bowed to the next Emperor of Japan.

"Leaves us, Fu," Danzou snapped, watching her closely as she kneeled back, her eyes downcast.

Fu brushed past her and she didn't flinch. She thought it would be harder, but the yellow kimono and everything it entitles had always cloaked her like a second skin. Layers only Shikamaru withdrew from her body in the darkness and lurking shadows.

Swiftly, she snapped her fan open while the old lord set his cane down next to his knees.

"I never thought I would see you again, Ino-chan," he started, his lips set in a hard line. "You vanished without a word. Tsunade-sama had me worried that you would betray us."

Her pulse hissed in her ears, she remained silent riding the threat of his words. She had a kunai while he had an army. A country. He would either believe her and join her board or she would lose her head.

"Where were you?"

"I was with child," she muttered letting her voice break over her lie, a porcelain polished lie and an artefact of her old life. "Shikamaru-sama threatened me into leaving so I would get rid of the child. Danzou-sama knows I would never betray him. I did as he asked of me regarding the young Nara lord. I just..."

Her eyes became humid and she let the pace slow, sneaking a glance at the cold face of Danzou. He didn't flinch, give in the way she knew he wouldn't. He never broke his back on power, never walked away from it. He was the prowling fox with keen fangs that would never go of a victim until the blood dried.

"Tsunade-sama would have thrown me on the street had she known."

That was the reason, he would never let go of her until he was done using her. This close to the Japanese throne, he needed her. Her beauty reached beyond the mind of men. Heartlessly, she would drown them in it until they break, until they reveal everything she needed to know.

"I suppose, you are not Nara Shikamaru's mistress anymore, then. This is bothersome, Ino-chan. I was told he married."

For the briefest moment, her mask cracked at the corner of her lips. She didn't expect Danzou to know about the wedding. She pressed her sweaty palm together, rolling her shoulders to drape her face with loose strands of blond hair. Was he playing her?

"Danzou-sama is mistaken. Shikamaru-sama still visits me. His wife is said to know nothing of the art of love," she covered her faked embarrassment with her fan.

Ino counted the passing seconds with the hammering in her chest, buzzing in her ears.

"The fool," Danzou smirked, shaking his head.

"Shikamaru-sama asked me to look into the Emperor's murder. What should I tell him, Danzou-sama?"

Sharply, he returned his attention to her face, his eyes burning, scrutinizing her features. After a moment, he reached for his cane.

"This is how you found me, then. Don't play for a fool like Tenten-chan, Ino-chan. It would be such a shame to cut off your beautiful head."

He rose to his feet, his eyes still narrowed.

"Tell him the assassination was ordered by Uchiha Sasuke. Spread the information so I can feast on that brat's head. He's served his purpose."

She bowed lowly, silently choking on the faint smell of bamboo and summer. Her heart clutched and the memory of Sasuke's touch ran down her spine. The sound of his cane echoed inside her when Fu appeared next to her. His presence was oppressive as they walked out of the Shimura compound. He handed her a small pouch of silk. The gold clicked long after he was gone.

Dry leaves and mud gathered at the rim of her kimono. She walked.

Her steps took her deeply into the forest but the trees and plants were still grey. Shuddering, she licked her lips wondering if that was all that was left of the bodies they burn every day. She never dove a kunai in a man's flesh but she knew information could dive in and tear a heart apart. Ino pushed forward, the texture of mud and herbs roughly caressing her anklets.

Information drove men wild and mad with pain. She took another step. It crushed skulls. She stopped.

Holding herself up on a thick tree, she closed her eyes. _She_. She drove men wild and mad with pain. She crushed their skulls.

"Another minute, troublesome woman, and I was barging in."

She only relaxed when the shadow reached for her hand, his mouth already pressed against her ear. She let the leaves gathered around them, the memory of their first encounters presented in the way Shikamaru pushed her hair away from her face.

She gave in as she did back then. Her mouth let go the information he sought, then she let him seek her touch, her lips.

The world stilled and she asked herself again if she would ever be whole in the way she acted.

"Don't worry, when this is all over, you will be free. I will kill him myself and you will be free."

Ino smiled as she always did, because she loved and believed his feelings to be as true as hers. He nuzzled her neck, planting kisses along her jawline. She closed her eyes never once reminding him that he promised her the same thing years ago when they met. 'Tenten had been right all along, we will never be more than pawns when it comes to warlords.'

She opened her eyes to pull him for a kiss.

'And we are foxes dressed as geisha because there's nothing that we enjoy more than this sickening game.'

-X-

The strong equine smell hit Tenten as she slipped through the ajar doors of the stable. The inn glowed behind her, surrounded by trees that bent crooked over the roof. She followed the curves of the rotten wooden pillars, her nose wrinkled. Her footing was steady, flowing onto the ground while her mind raced.

She thought of Neji, Konoha and China. The boat's anchor weighed on her movements, slowing her. She paused, she blinked. She never thought she would be torn between two homes and the things they each represented to her, to them. Neji and her.

Freedom shouldn't taste as strong. It shouldn't galloped over mountains of bodies, forgetting the cadavers that still rocked to the afterlife into the deep Chinese waters. Tenten drifted between two harbours but she still reached for her horse. She paused looking over her shoulder, her fingers sinking in the coarse robe of the animal. In the thickening silence and darkness, she squirmed, her senses in alert. She expected his eyes to gleam savage and sparkling.

She expected the choice to be clear, between China and Japan.

Finally, Tenten crouched next to her mare, her palm on her flank to reassure it. Her other hand reached for the bridles, testing the silence in slow steps. The fresh air pooled down on her, once she exited the stable. She welcomed the howls of the owls and the veiled moon. Her senses were filled with the scent of silver. It weighed on her tongue as she rose her head towards the welkin.

No stars, only crushing darkness.

She choked on the wind that carried the scent of salt from the North and blood from the South. The air twirled around her, dancing in snapping dry leaves at her feet. Everywhere Tenten went, cadavers seemed to follow her, never once releasing the daunting memories and guilt.

Neji and China.

Shiftly, her hands worked over her twin katana over her meagre possessions. She slipped in her saddle-bag before pulling herself up on the saddle. One last time, she glanced up searching for the stars her father used to follow. Shaking her head, she pushed her mount forward, its breathing regular unlike hers. Nausea assaulted her throat and she leaned forward.

The wind whipped her face and neck.

The wind carried a black arrow.

Pain exploded in her left shoulder, blurring her vision. A gasp knocked the air out of her lungs. The mare neighed loudly, its muscles working beneath her to throw her off its back. Tenten pulled her eyebrows together, hanging on to tangible ground. Hanging on the pain, running down her spine. Her hand jerked against her sides, the bridles slipping between her stiffened fingers. She tasted melted silver and blood on her tongue as she bit her below lip to keep from screaming. Fearfully, the mare kicked again and she slipped. There was no tangibility, no common ground. The choice had been made for her.

Roughly, she rolled on herbs and dry leaves scratching her skin, the pain sneaking past her fear and anger. It blurred her mind, possessed her.

It reminded her of Neji's touch when they first spared, when their blades first clicked and gleamed.

"My weapons!" She cried out, her pupils dilating, her fingers closing around the arrow stuck in her shoulder.

Blood leaked between her fingers and two full moons stared down on her. They twirled, the mare's neighs echoing farther away and Gai's words exploded shapelessly at her ears. Unflinching, Katsuo didn't lower his bow, his finger twitching over another arrow.

"My blades!" Tenten tried again weakly.

The noise washed over her, she couldn't look away from his orbs. She had never stared at such burning hatred and sorrow before even in her own eyes.

Her pulse quickened, her blood rushing in her system, pounding in her head. There was the pain, hers and his, looking back at one another. She wanted to live, he wanted to kill her.

"You told me you wouldn't let what happened cloud your judgement when it comes to her."

"And I told you I wouldn't hesitate shooting an arrow through her if she tried to escape." His finger still twitched over his other arrow and he neared her, Gai clenching his jaw.

Drowsily, Tenten moved her head to watch her mare run away with her weapons. Her hooves crushed the last pieces of her freedom and she blinked away the angry tears. The world spun again, a rush of grey colours that now masked the welkin. Inhaling sharply, she realized Gai was holding her up.

"Did you seriously think you could escape my eyes, little pest? Where were you going anyway? To the front?"

She hissed, glaring at the dancing moons before her. She still looked past them for the stars that she could cling to. Pain rippled under her skin, when her sensei tore open her traveling clothes over the black arrow.

"Anywhere," Tenten spat between clenched teeth, gasping for air.

Vaguely, she sensed Gai's hands on her skin, supple around her wound. Katsuo sat on the back of his heels, snickering silently. A shiver ran down her spine, thick sweat gathering on her temples.

"You planned on running away without a plan? This is so unlike your mother. You must be as stupid as a donkey."

"Is this what this is about? My mother did you wrong."

The hands stilled and the elder leaned forward, his orbs savage and unforgiving.

"I called your mother 'my sister' and there is not one day that passes by that I don't think she is just that. My sister. You should thank her because had it not been for my thinking so, I would have shot an arrow through your heart," Katsuo of the House of Dragons straightened his back, his orbs drowning in a thought that made them the colour of ashes.

Roughly, Gai removed the arrow from her flesh. Blood oozed, dripping down her back and she cried out. Katsuo's glance didn't waver from her pain, he dropped the other arrow back in his silver quiver.

"Or drown you," he added softly, his features quivering in excitement. "Yes, I would enjoy having you kick and gasp uselessly for air."

His smirk widened, hints of silver needles piercings through his lips. Tenten stared down at the bloodied arrow on her laps, her gasps thinner in the humid night. Pain surrounded her gaping wound dulling the sensation in her arm.

"Katsuo, this is not youthful," the monk whispered, his hand pressing down on her wound to stop the blood.

"Shut up, Gai. You will thank me later because now she can't hope to run away. Without weapons and with only one good arm, she's nothing."

She raised her head one last time and she shuddered, afraid and lost. The clouds thinned revealing a bright star in the star. Tenten recognized the shape, the fangs and the fall of an empire her father believed it meant.

_The Fox and the Goose._

It was the constellation of deception and unwary souls breaching the limits of the kingdom of Doom and Death to feast upon the living.

Gently, Gai helped her to her feet and staring at the back of Katsuo's head, she already knew who was the fox and who was the fox.

-X-

_**The constellation of the Fox and the Goose is also called Vulpecula cum Ansere, if you want to check it out. :) **_

_**I had fun writing this, I have missed the adrenaline of Silk and Machinations. I am more than happy to find its intensity once more. ^_^ I hope you liked it!**_

_**(April and May will be hard for me to deliver quick updates because I have been admitted to an internship program in a country of North Africa (either in Tunisia or Libya), hence the impromptu trip back home to send over some missing documents. The Professor in charged has sworn that I would get internet connection, so updates won't stop once I land, fear not. I just can't promise updates will be as fast with intensive Arabic courses and exams coming up. I just wanted to let you so you don't think I have abandoned my stories. :) )**_


	3. Circle of Allegiances

_**To **Entertaining**: Thank you for your review, dear! I'm glad you liked Silk and Machinations enough to read this sequel. Oh, don,t worry, I have no intention of abandoning this story. :) I missed NejiTen scenes, in fact. I'm trying to find a way to make it all work out as planned while adding more of them together. I will find a way. ;)**_

_**To **Chisa Chispa**: Ah! Thank you for your understanding and your review! :) I missed them too to tell you the truth. I'm trying to find a way for them to reunite sooner than planned without throwing off the narrative. .'**_

_**To **Guest**: Hahaha! Yes, now that you mention it, I think you are right. :P Thank you for your review! ^_^**_

-X-

**Circle of Allegiances  
_by Clementive_**

-X-

Morino Ibiki felt the abrupt halt of the bodies in the Subaku castle. Servants froze, irregular statues of the sandy air, their bodies hunched a broken hurried manner. The sand rolled under their dress, on his skin, the sun hotter than he remembered, as they cleared the path for him and his cousins. His gut twisted, a tingling sensation spreading in his veins as the scars engraved across his left cheek deepened. He had always missed the harshness of the sand, the unforgivable sun that the welkin needed to swallow for it to disappear. The burning caress of the wind soothed him back in his rightful place and his cousins bowed as if he had never been gone. One could never really escape the wrath of the sand or its savage storm spinning in their chest.

In his first days in Konoha, Ibiki often snorted at the snap of a fan hiding the expression of the princesses of the North or at the way northern lords swore through their teeth. The history of the shogunate of the Wind was carved in open threat and visible daggers. The sand was their blanket of blood, they willingly tucked under their chin. In the South, men died staring back at their enemies. No facade. No jerk of the wrist to snap a fan open. The Law of the Sand let them wash their hands in the blood of their enemies and let them gather it in the palm of their hand when they needed to drink. The Law froze their bodies in a perpetual war that never stopped the sand from clotting at their feet.

Morino Ibiki missed the brutality that jerked his hands and propelled his muscles in a fight.

Even he tried to keep it buried inside him, there was also Sora. There was an irregular pressuring reminder of her in the caress of the wind, in the way the branched blended and flowers withered. He saw her in the ripe apples rolling at his feet at the compound and the fluid movement of the birds reaching beyond the top of the skeletal trees.

His cousins knew. The Morino knew the secrets of everyone, their breaking point, the second they would shout and scream rather than face pain. _The truth before the pain_, they would utter, shrugging. Morino grew up by the rules of the truth and pain.

Just like Sora did, in her own way.

His throat closing in, his eyes fell on the absent flag of the emblem of her father's house above the tower. She wasn't here, hadn't been in years. Yet, Ibiki breathed her in everyday since he had been back. He breathed her in the tension of the other lords, in the way they twisted their neck and expected Hyuuga Hoheto to spring on his feet. He let the hushed voices run off his skin as he took in the elongated room that assembled the heads of the twelve tribes. Gaara of the Sand sat on a higher platform, his pale green eyes calmly shifting across the room.

Ibiki almost laughed at the idea of the child of a monster ruling over them. When he was exiled, Sasori was sitting on the throne of the Sand, the tribes were killing one another and blood seeped out of the walls.

Slowly, he kneeled on the cushion marked by the emblem of the Morino clan and two of his cousins sat down behind him. The other lords of the Sand smirked, snarled mouthing the words that have sent him in exile almost thirty years ago. He smirked back, nodding stiffly at the disapproving stares. The Law stated kinslayers were to remain untouched if honour led them to lower their katana. He finally locked glance with Hyuuga Hoheto. His hand defiantly closed around the handle of the katana resting at his side.

In the North, it would have been a threat but in the South, it was a promise.

'I will make you pay.'

Ibiki felt his lips curled over his teeth, the room still spinning, still drinking in the hatred of two old enemies finally reunited for a final battle. They dipped their heads, whispering about how Hyuuga Hoheto should have killed him when he had the chance. The ghosts of the Sand never showed mercy, he should have known better. They never rested until revenge oozed, holes agape with burning flesh and billowing arteries.

The Hyuuga's cheeks coloured and he shifted his gaze toward Gaara of the Sand.

'Coward, I will have your head on a pike and Sora will drink from it whenever she sees fit. When I'm done with you, even scavengers won't want anything to do with your carcass. When I'm done with you, Sora will smile.'

"My lords, the council will begin," Gaara rose and in the sunlight, his hair appeared darker. "We must decide on our allegiance for the next Emperor. The Crown Prince's body has been found. There are two potential heirs to the throne: Uchiha Sasuke or Uzumaki Naruto."

-X-

His arm now moved on its own, blocking the blade midair.

The echoes of the battle rang of slashing flesh and thumping cadavers. Hyuuga Neji had forgotten how a heavy death could weigh down a man. With the muscles contracted around his eyes, he could see the sharpened edge of their muscles, the curves of their weakness running alongside their aorta.

His arm moved again and the head rolled.

Neji didn't even wait for the flow of blood to reach the ground before he sprang again, his katana darting through flesh and bones. His vision shifted, searching for the Uchiha heir. He saw the movement of the mass of bodies retreating and he cursed under his breath. It fell short in his dry throat but he pushed forward. Amid the slowing pace and echoes, he heard Shikamaru's shout. The banners whipped the air before stilling.

His chest heaved on the edge of the battlefield. His foot hit an arm and he removed his helmet in a frustrated sigh.

"They retreated again. This is getting troublesome."

They were on the border of the shogunate of the Wind and the Rock. They were on the edge of the carcass of canyon with the wind burning exposed skin. They were on the verge of oblivion, stinking of death and gore.

"He's never on the battlefield," Neji's jaw clenched and he turned narrowed eyes towards the Nara.

"I would do the same if I were to inherit a throne," Shikamaru panted unclasping his armour around his arms so he could move more easily.

His mind reeled, the air thick and moist with death. Every night, they stopped panting with soldiers retreating and others blinking as the silence replaced the shouts of pain and victorious war cries. Every night, Nara Shikamaru lost himself in comparing this war with the previous ones. Often, they meddled, took the body of a continuous battlefield that never ended. His glance landed on the grey stiffened arm nearly gripping the older man's shoe and each intake hurt.

He was alive and they were dead. At times, he wanted to lie on his back with the dead and watch the clouds hurried by a bleeding sky.

"We need to get him out of his lair."

Shikamaru jolted, feeling the weight of Neji's hand on his shoulder. The world stopped wheeling and his glance left the arm alone. Slowly, he nodded. They needed to win in order to keep their heads. A new emperor could never afford to let an enemy live. An emperor held their lives in his palms and could crush them whenever he wanted to.

"Naruto," Shikamaru muttered. "Sasuke is probably waiting for Naruto to be here before appearing. He can't afford to take a change with us closing in on them. It will all come down to the two of them fighting."

Neji felt his blood boil, his voice rasp and thick when he levelled his glare to the ground.

"It will always be like this; them fighting and us watching them fight. When they wave the strings, we follow. When they die, we die. Nothing has changed. I may have the shogunate of the Fire, but nothing has changed."

The horizon blurred and he contracted the muscles around his eyes, refusing to see the colours that strained in red and streaks of blue. He still saw faith.

"This has nothing to do with faith." Nara said slowly.

The words rang hauntingly to his ears. He wondered if he had uttered them in the same way on another battlefield years ago.

"I know," Neji answered bitterly through clenched teeth. "It's a cage."

Shikamaru spun on his heels, leaving the shogun with the first watch. 'No, it's a circle, Neji. We are trapped in a circle.'

-X-

Three days passed, but Neji felt his body was constantly drenched in sweat and blood. It stank, raw, moving fluidly because it had learned the dance years ago. It was the same echo of muffled exhausted bodies dragging their foot in the dust of the South. It was the same katana, over and over again that he needed to polish. He found that blood was more resistant than memories. He found that despite Tenten sharpening all his weapons, they were now weary and dull.

His arm kept moving. Heads kept falling, rolling, a miserable tongue hanging beneath loose teeth. He kept fighting because that was what he knew best. At times, he would shake his head, smirk and hear Tenten's disgusted snort at the way the enemy would block a blow only to leave his chest or neck unshielded.

Yet, later, the wind drifted harshly. Instead of mud and blood snaking between their feet, they were on rocks and sand. The war cries carried them there. His pants hit the back of his closing throat, the soreness of his arm visible as he lowered it. His body tensed. There was something different that day in the way the soldiers moved, in the way birds spread above their heads. He was used to the routine; he could count the arrows that were shot everyday and the blows that were exchanged. The heat crushed him and his eyes searched beyond the enemies three feet in front of him.

Neji froze when he saw the blunt contours of a horse on the opposite side of the battlefield.

He didn't flinch when Shikamaru's katana sneaked around his arm to push back the line that had formed before him. He didn't flinch when he felt the shout against his skin. He decided the battlefield was too quiet for the scream

It was Tenten's mare and there was blood on the saddle.

The Nara kept shouting, but his feet moved on their own. His blade bit and cut his way through the Uchiha soldiers.

He flinched, his chest hollow and contradicting when he reached the edge of the thin forest. His hand brushed the heavy content of the saddle bags. Tenten's weapons gleamed and darkness closed around him.

His hand didn't release the bag when Nara Shikamaru and Yamanaka Ino joined him. He didn't notice the silence falling on the battlefield below him. He only noticed the strain of blood, only calculate if she could have survived.

"Neji-sama," Ino called softly, her blue eyes wide.

He felt cold, his eyes reflecting the fright in hers. Dulling the tremors of his body, the shrill that still rang in his ear, he watched her blankly mirrored the emotions he felt inside. He watched fight for words with a mouth filled with bile. He watched her reached for her husband, the way he wanted to reach for Tenten.

"We can't afford you to lose focus. We can't afford to send a rescue team after her, Neji."

"I know," the muscles of his neck bent, baring the same pragmatism as Shikamaru. "Send a message to Morino Ibiki. He will handle this. Tell him to name his price."

They hesitated, glancing furtively at one another before leaving him.

"Tenten will be fine. She's always fine."

Somehow, it sounded weak, weaker than the whisper in his mind, freezing his heart in place. His hand didn't release the bag when they were gone.

-X-

"They are both too young! We should sit someone else on the throne. There ought to be another more suitable heir in the imperial family three."

"They are both older than me," Gaara snapped coldly, knowing the tribes would not recoil.

The Law of the Sand stated clearly that he was the judge who didn't bow, he was the sand reaching above their ankles. However, they decided, they voted, they argued. The Emperor took hold of the lands of the South after they had inhabited them for centuries. If they became part of a country they never belonged with it. They reminded him of that fact whenever they sat before him refusing to bow. For them, in the South, they either broke or resist. Bowing didn't suit the brutal sun and the crushing wind. Bowing never suited them.

"I have an idea," Ibiki spoke above the rising voices as he locked glance with the daimyo. "Why don't we ask Hoheto-sama to provide us with a heir? I hear the third branch of his clan is full of little royal heirs with no other purpose of providing Hoheto-sama with wealth and lands. It's my thinking that one of them should have an adequate purpose for once," his tongue coldly let go of the words one by one as he enjoyed the petrified stature of the Hyuuga.

There was the briefest moment of silence before the tumult of voices raised in chaotic waves. Ibiki let a smirk ease the brutality of his features when Hoheto's hand closed around the handle of his katana. His neck reddened he remembered why he insisted on the Morino's banishment. He handled information the same way any noble man would handle a katana; with a flick of the wrist to dry a man until he limped as a corpse.

"Silence!" Gaara shouted above the cacophony but the anger of the other lords swallowed it whole. "I said silence!"

"I have the right to give the hands of the women in my clan to whoever I see fit!" Hoheto snapped flushed with anger. "It is not to any of you to meddle with my business. The Law states-"

"The Law states you can't meddle your women's blood without our approval." His voice lost its mocking tone, abruptly whipping and cold. "Besides, the last time you gave one of your women's hand to a Chinese Prince, we had to lock the city down."

"Quiet, Morino! You are just a vile insect who killed his own father! Why has he returned, Gaara-sama? Why is he even here?"

His face darkened, his smirk revealing his sharp teeth. Gaara's green glare rested on his face and he saw the scarred face of a bear. Appalled, he watched his face gave in to the demon who killed his father without a shed of regret.

"Because unlike you, pompous moron, I have soldiers instead of princesses."

-X-

"We should let the call of youth guide our journey!"

Katsuo growled, his disgust blatant on his trembling lips. Tenten just hissed in pain in return. She had taken into glaring at the back of his head. She had snapped, cursed and let her tongue unleash her boiling anger. She didn't know if it were directed towards herself for thinking she could hide from his eyes or towards him for letting her weapons disappear. She merely enjoyed the set of his jaw, whenever her words forced him to look at her. His visible calmness would falter, quiver and she would catch the hint of guilt meddled with annoyance. She discovered quickly that his frown deepened and his gait slowed whenever she mentioned her mother. She felt like a mischievous child throwing her toys in the corner of her room. She felt victorious, even if the stale sickness dulling her senses.

"_What is she going to think of her sweet older brother when she sees this wound?_"

He would blanch, pinch his lips and she smiled with pretended innocence.

"We should-"

"Quiet, Gai," Katsuo snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We are doing exactly as planned. Do you hear me? The port wasn't clear at the village, so we are going to the city, as planned."

"Will you shoot an arrow through his shoulder too if he disobeys?"

Irritated, he glowered at her, noting that the pain in her shoulder had subsided enough for her to ride with a straighter back. Her forehead was moist and her breath, laboured. The greenery danced before her eyes at times, the movement of the horse below her unbearable. Tenten jolted when he gripped the bridles off her hands, his eyes already searching her face.

"We need to stop," he admitted reluctantly, wetting his lips. "She seems to have an infection."

"I'm fine. Just a tiny hole from a Hyuuga who can't control himself."

The grip tighter and she wished she could take back her words when his eyes narrowed into slits. She remembered that it was the worse insult within the House of Dragons. She remembered the secrecy of one's surname and the importance of the ceremony when one chose to give it up.

"I am not a Hyuuga," he murmured darkly while Gai oblivious smile didn't reach either of them.

He dismounted in a fluid motion before helping her down. Tenten clenched her jaw, not trusting her mouth to move according to her will. The monk hummed to himself in a tune that has become familiar. She became vaguely aware of the repetition of the tune that stirred something in her memories. Frowning slightly, she leaned back against the trunk of a tree as Katsuo's stiffly removed the bandage on her arm.

"Why does he sing whenever we stop?"

Her vision cleared and her question floated between her and Katsuo. She waited for him to understand, for his jaw to clench like whenever he tried to prevent cascades of emotions from shaping his features. Instead, his fingers ran over her wound, his face disinterested. The hole turned pinkish and pale overnight around the wound, with the blood already coagulated.

"This isn't infected, but you seem to have a fever."

"Why does he sing?"

Her left hand reached for a kunai in his open robs when realization damned on him. The tune ceased abruptly and Gai calmly reached for his katana.

"Because the realm comes first."

She yelped, the rough edges of the tree imprinted oh her cheek. The pain shot through her arm mercilessly, his nails sinking in her shoulder. Tenten fought Katsuo's arm holding her in place, but they went limp against her crushing her heaving chest. The blood soaked her front before she could stop the scream from erupting guttural and wild in her throat.

Flashes of the forest of the shogunate of the Earth ran through her mind. However, the leaves that surrounded her turned yellow and red as she tried to run. The blood weighed her down. The branches moved like arms, circling, grasping at her until they became solid, and holding her down with too much force. She smelled the earth and the overwhelming presence of silver around her. It froze the blood in her veins, it increased the thudding in her chest filling her head instead of reassuring her.

Her glance fell on Gai uncharacteristically stoic, the assault of nausea suddenly stronger.

"What-" She fought it, rising within her, her freed locks hiding her face. She couldn't think of the proper questions, the proper sentences.

"I didn't mean for Katsuo to die, but he wouldn't have let me do this," his voice flat and falling with in rhythmic Chinese intonations. "You see, to him, Princess Sora came first but to me, Prince Chao comes first. He wants to meet you and his daughter wouldn't let that happen."

Her laughter was dry and scorched, tears welling at the corner of her eyes.

"My father was a peasant," she shouted stubbornly in Japanese while still fighting the iron grips on her arms. "My mother is no princess. Princesses don't marry peasants."

The pain came back stronger, hurling her back on trembling feet. Tenten panted shaking her head.

"Oh, they do when they are ordered to," he locked glance with her, answering in Chinese. "They do whatever it takes for the realm."

-X-

_**I'm biased but this is one of my favourite chapters. :P I will try to update one more time before leaving Canada. For now, review? ^_^**_


	4. Curtains of Sand

_**To Chisa Chispa: Thank you for your review, dear! :) I'm also excited for what is to come. Oh my god, yes, you may ask questions! If I didn't want them to meet, I would have let Sora die 12 years ago. ;)**_

_**To Guest: I'm glad you enjoyed it, dear! :D (Well you didn't have to wait long this time, yes? ;)) Thank you for your review! ^_^**_

_**It was hard finding an internet cafe in which I could update, but now that I have found one, things should get back on a weekly schedule. Enjoy! :D**_

-X-

**Curtains of Sand_  
by Clementive_**

-X-

The tribes of the South never bowed and refused to be dismissed.

Subaku no Gaara could see their games, barely masked schemes, but they could only see him through curtains of sand. He couldn't side in their insults or find the words that would make the room revolved around him.

It all revolved around Morino and Hyuuga, the Japanese long throne forgotten in their call for blood. Two days passed and they still hadn't voted. There was two sides shifting the room's roar in jerky hand gestures and he was sitting between them. He was the outsider who could crush them if he wanted to. He was the outsider who promised himself he wouldn't and they knew as much, had closed the curtains around them.

He was left alone, ignored and forgotten with a status and clothes that didn't mean anything to them.

Gaara knew in order to handle the tribes, he needed to mould, shape and transfix their ways like sand and resist to the storm like rock. The tribes bred the beasts of the sand, demons that they expected to find in him. His predecessors had ignored the gentle graze of the sand, the shimmer of the dunes. They never slept, wandering the darkness day and night and the same curse befell upon him.

When he slept, something would awake inside of him. Something that growled and clawed its way through his soul. He ignored it when it pressed against his head or twisted his fingers over the scent of blood. There were nights that its sleek whispers would still find him; his ruling was too gentle, his hand too light when closing around the handle of his katana, it would growled.

It was Uzumaki Naruto who told him of demons which slept and never killed. It was Uzumaki Naruto who showed him the light and the darkness that could allow him to sit on his father's throne without slipping into his ghost and ravaging his lands. So, he did.

After all these years sitting on the throne of the shogunate, he still sunk in shifting sands, carried away by the back of the hands of tribes that never stopped unlike his.

His pale green eyes stopped on the disfigured face of Morino Ibiki. Gaara remembered the late head of the Morino tribe, a thick man who never shouted and handled instead silence as a weapon. His father had frowned when the body had been brought to him, a honourable death he had thought. Then, Hyuuga Hoheto had claimed otherwise. They were faces made of sand that the weakest wind could alter in another scheme, another fall. The face of Morino Ibiki told him he knew who Gaara wanted to see sitting on the Japanese throne. The face of Hyuuga Hoheto told him he knew how to exile him from the shogunate just as he had done with the Morino.

Grains of sand flew, the warmest hours escaping them, and they effortlessly swirled those grains of sand, the way Gaara wanted them to, ripping him apart, defying the pull of the wind.

"Hyuuga-sama, how many members of the third branch of your clan can sit on the Japanese throne?" He asked coldly, playing on the disgust of the other lords to feed the strength of his voice and the stability of his throne. Alone, it would have fallen flat against the ripple of their discussion.

It pierced the curtains of sand and Gaara could see the hint of a smirk on Morino Ibiki's face. He felt the beating of his heart, the thumping of silence. He was still sitting between them, still powerless. Still a puppet and his strings hung loosely in the palm of the Morino. An eye for an eye, his face told him. I can give you power, it assured him.

"Three have royal lineage, but none would dare sit on the throne," he gave him a frozen smile as if they would know better. "They are nothing more than perfect shields, accustomed to the pain and unable to use the gentle fists style because of it. Gaara-sama can rest assured that none of them can pretend to anything I do not give them myself."

"Morino-sama, I want you to hold custody of those princesses," he locked glance with him, the voices of the other lords already buzzing, escalating in a hurried tumult of stunned defiance. Excitement, rage. It swirled around him, a storm forming in the room and he was its eye.

He clenched his teeth riding the tempest. The mood of the room stilled and he pretended not to notice the narrowed eyes. He could almost feel their mouth handling for the Law of the Sand.

"Gaara-sama," Hoheto snapped, his eyes narrowing. "They belong to my clan and they are married. A honourable man would never allow his woman to live under another's man roof. This is despicable and terribly unwise on your part."

Ibiki crossed his arms, cocking his head on the side as if evaluating the young shogun for the first time.

"I refuse to feed women I do not bed."

"Morino!" Hoheto shouted, turning towards the smirking lord.

"Hoheto-sama is lying," he continued while other lords fidgeted. "There are four princesses and only one is dangerous. Ebisu-san reported that a Chinese diplomatic boat has reached the harbour in the shogunate of the Sound. I will take the Chinese princess in my custody. With the ship here, I'm sure I can find an arrangement for her to pay for her own food."

Gaara sensed the trap, noticed the subtle change in the Morino's posture alongside the silence of the other tribes. 'He planned this. This is all a game to him and I have practically given him the authorization to hold that prisoner and use her against me.' When he turned towards Hoheto, his lips were quivering, his composed features exploding, stretched in a mask of disgust and rage.

"It's not possible. She died!" He exploded, wild eyed, raising to his feet while pointing at the Morino. "Hiashi-sama assured me he killed the girl!"

"He must have lied. He must have feared the dragon more than he feared the sheep," Ibiki replied with cold amusement. Deliberately slowly, he shrugged waving his hand as if to wave a fly away.

"Get her," Gaara ordered, clenching his fists over his knees. "When she arrives here, I want to speak with her."

"I give my support to the Uzumaki kid," Ibiki answered instead never glancing away from him and the lords fell into place voicing their support.

He won but he was still behind the glass, walking on shifting sands that never stilled beneath him. They compressed his chest, restrained his movements and he was always in debt. He drifted in their games and sank between their fingers.

They dismissed themselves and he rose his body tensed with frustration.

Ibiki passed in front of Hyuuga Hoheto and allowed himself to bend over him. He watched him, battled to maintain his calm, his lips pulling over his teeth in a soundless snarl. The scavengers of dunes were known to pick at their food for days. They were known for enjoying the hunt and their meal with their prey's heart still beating.

"I will tell her you looked like this when you learned she was alive. I will tell her you were scared enough to shit yourself and she will smile. Then, I will give her your head and she will laugh." his tone was low, the threat deeply embedded in its coldness.

Gaara watched Ibiki's face for a while before shutting the door behind him. In the shogunate of the Wind, enemies and friends shifted constantly like sand. He hoped he hadn't made a mistake in choosing one over the other.

He hoped supporting Uzumaki Naruto wouldn't cost him his throne.

-X-

"We can't board the ship with the princess this sick."

An icy curtain would raise from her body. Tenten shivered, she could sometimes feel hand passing over her skin. It would heat her from head to toe, her head rolling back onto cushions. She would see Katsuo's dead eyes turning to liquid steel, she would feel the her fingers slipping over the handle of a kunai, the taste of earth still filling her mouth. Then, it would lift and left her dry and shivering.

She couldn't tell ghosts apart from the living that hovered her.

Voices would cease then urged her in Chinese. Her tongue was too thick, but she knew she would have called her father if it could leave her palate. If it could move. If she could move.

"She's losing it."

Tenten opened glassy eyes and tried to focus on the clear female voice, but her voice skewed and when she bent over, she saw brown eyes and deep haunting wrinkles.

"You are awake." A frown curled the thin lips, when she closed her eyes, groaning at the light escaping between the curtains.

The old woman's hand closed around her shoulder and she gasped in pain, her eyes shutting open. The breeze caressed her moist skin. She shivered, her breathing falling into pants. Abruptly, she lifted the silk sheets from her body. The birds chirped, but she was waiting for a sharp intake, a pity tap that would tell her what she already knew.

"You haven't bled, yet. Are you married?"

"Yes." she breathed out, her hand falling onto her stomach.

"You have drunk too much moon tea in your life," the elder clicked her tongue disapprovingly, pulling back the sheets over her legs. "You will probably lose the baby with this fever. Does your stomach hurt?"

"No," she whispered, clenching her jaw.

The weight of Neji and her was resting on in her stomach and it seemed she couldn't bear it. It seemed it would escape her, piercing her when it would. She would lose both herself and Neji if it did, she thought. Her throat hurt, her heart compressed.

"Don't cry, Your Highness, you have enough bad luck with this child. You don't want to chase his spirit away. It will only be harder for you. A shame your mother is nowhere to be found."

The elder gave her a sharp look forcing her to meet her eyes, her voice trailing on her last words. She still wanted to call for her father. His absence had always been heavier than her mother's. It had always been his arms over her arms. It has always been his smile and the absence of her mother's one.

"Do you know where she is?"

She closed her eyes, a shaky laugh echoing in her chest. Katsuo's dead eyes replaced by Gai's cold stare and bloodied katana flashed in her mind. It had been about her. All along it had been about a fleeing mother. After twelve years she was still the price of her punishment.

"No."

Slowly, Tenten turned on her side, her arms curling around her belly. She felt the emptiness of the title they wanted to force on her. She felt curtains rising and falling over a shogi board, she thought she knew by heart now. The voice harassed her, her tears dried hanging on to the only thing she wanted to give Neji.

The old nurse held a grass in front of her and she remembered all the times she had seen Tsunade extended the same glass in front of a sick girl. Tenten wanted to laugh at the irony of the bottomless beginning.

"I don't want to lose him," she spoke slowly, but the roar burnt at the back of her throat.

"You are not being reasonable, Your Highness. The child will die and it does so will you considering the way your body has weakened."

"I'm not drinking this," she ran her tongue over her dry lips.

They still vibrated from the strength of her voice. The mist cleared over her mind for the briefest moment and she remembered the guilt and fear loosely swaying on Katsuo's face.

"She will cut off your hand if you try to force into down my throat."

"I was her nurse, if you think I'm not used to this kind of talk," the woman laughed and Tenten's fingers curled around a kunai resting against her breast. "Did someone ever tell you about Prince Chao, your grandfather? He has no enemies because their heads are hanging in the hall of his palace and there are hands and fingers in every room. Like father like daughter but you don't have it in you, child. Unlike you, they don't negotiate."

She bared her teeth and the silver of them shone in the room. She let it fly. Tenten felt the weakness in her muscles when she threw kunai towards the elder. In a swift movement of the wrist, she caught it the tattoo on her arm bare despite its deformed shape against her wrinkled flabby arm. With equal strength, it sank in the floor.

"I will bring you something to eat. Your Highness should rest and stop acting like a spoiled child."

She was still the child between two seas of bodies. She was still the child with an absent mother and a dead father. She was still the orphan searching for the roar inside of her.

Repeatedly, it escaped her, sinking in troubling waters that closed in onto her mind and weakened her body.

-X-

Sweat gathered on his temples while sand rolled under his horse's hooves when Uzumaki Naruto took off his helmet. The tents of the clans of the valley of Konoha were spread in front of him, clinging to the rocks in colours that should have hidden them from sight. Naruto's gaze jumped from the camp to the one of the Uchiha camp, his throat closing.

He wanted to believe he would have the strength in his arm to dive his blade in the body of his friend. He wanted to believe that the mere thought of Sakura's would hold his arm steady. He wanted to believe it was all worth it.

"Naruto-sama?"

The sun casted shadows on the ground that ran between the camps. On the battlefield, siding was never about the darkness because it restlessly filled them whenever they killed. It was never about the light, because they preferred to fight under the sun. They preferred to see the hanging limbs and the fallen enemies. The first time he killed, he emptied his stomach and when he rose again, he killed another. And another. The light never let a solder pause and the darkness never released a solder's gut; he knew as much.

"Naruto-sama? Shouldn't we head down? We are exposed."

"Yes, of course," his voice rang raw as he pushed his horse forward.

His eyes searched the thickening darkness, the breath of the night brushing aside his golden locks. He wanted to be exposed. He wanted Sasuke Uchiha to know he was here.

He wanted him to know if he did raise his katana he would take his life and let him take his if it was it took.

He wanted him to know it was the end for the both of them.

-X-

Her world revolved around closing and opening sliding doors; piercing shadows and the wait of the pain. It was painted in Chinese colours, the shape of her necklace, embedded in the dragon's mouth of her robes.

The coldness of her fever slid off her skin, disturbed only by Rong's rough hands. Tenten panted, her lips paling as the layers of clothes closed around her. The nurse's voice always rang clear but her manners left harsh searing imprints of heat on her skin. Her hands would push her up without faltering, her tongue always clicking, a rhythmic mimic of her disapproval.

"You hold yourself like a peasant."

"What does it mean?" She asked, pointing at the elaborate drop of water that didn't belong with the fire of beast.

"It's the sign of your grandmother's clan. Princess Sora would throw tantrum after tantrum whenever her mother's emblem wasn't on her clothes. That foolish angry child," Rong roughly snapped a fan shut on her palm to slid it between her cold fingers. "Since you are as stubborn as her and prone to throwing kunai and daggers, I thought you would like to be reminded of whom you are."

"I know who I am and I'm the daughter of a peasant."

It was the only thing that kept her from saying she was the wife of Hyuuga Neji, because even then, it felt more like her than anything she remembered of her mother. She didn't want the sign of her grandmother's clan, she didn't want her grandfather's imperial dragon placed above the one that did make her the warrior she knew she was meant to be.

"Oh, some peasant that man was," she snorted.

Her head swayed heavily, her shoulders stiff from the weight of her hair pulled in a tight bun. Her eyes barely registered the movements around her as Rong closed her robes loosely around her hips. Then, she took her chin between her fingers her eyes scanning her eyebrows before nodding to herself. Tenten clenched her teeth, fighting to grasp the venom in the intonation of Rong's voice. She didn't want her nods and rough her hands pushing her up.

"Your features are too thick around your mouth, daughter of a peasant. Now, would you stand still?"

She turned her head away from her reflexion under the old nurse's watchful eyes. The silk cascaded around her legs. She wondered if blood would be as fluid and she looked down, expecting weight of her stomach to lift while dreading it. Twice, she had again refused the tea that would stop her sickness and stop her pregnancy at the same time.

"Why do I have to dress up like this? Your movements give me nausea."

Her knees almost gave him until she was pulled down again. She looked behind her at the unmade futon and her body bent towards it. Rong's hands pressed against her back and she straightened her posture, panting.

"Because someone has sunk the ship. If you ask me, that is your mother's doing. It feels like one of her pranks," she narrowed her eyes the whitened tip of a wide brush over her skin. "We need to get another a Japanese one now and that means asking a lord for it."

Her heartbeat quickened filling her ears until she couldn't feel the oppression of her stomach and robes, sweat prickling her nape. Kneeling and handled like a doll, she could only sink in the aversive thought of letting her child run wild like silk. Rong dipped a smaller brush in a red liquid and held her chin firmly. She wanted to laugh; make-up still felt familiar to the faintest movement of the wrist. However, she didn't think anything could smudge the awaiting pain and sickness buried in her womb.

"Which lord?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes," Tenten murmured.

Because if it were Neji she would straighten her back on her own and kill the waves of nausea and unstable worlds that seemed to keep them apart. She told herself, the weight of them wouldn't disappear as easily if it were him.

She could hold him in. She could give him a son.

-X-

_**And I have found a way to reunite them. :D Next chapter, there will be NejiTen! ^_^**_

_**Reviews? They are quite lovely, you know. :)**_


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